Nodus Tollens
by humanveil
Summary: A collection of post wotl drabbles and ficlets from my tumblr.
1. Regrets

**Moving drabbles from tumblr to here.**

 **meaning of the title: The meaning of the title: the realization that the plot of your life doesn't make sense to you anymore—that although you thought you were following the arc of the story, you keep finding yourself immersed in passages you don't understand.**

* * *

Hannibal's fingers thread through his hair slowly, the motion contributing to Will's already sleep muddled mind. He moves further into the warmth Hannibal's naked body offers, his scarred cheek pressing against the soft dusting of hair of the doctor's chest.

"Do you regret coming?"

Will sighs, the puff of air warm against Hannibal's skin. He's been waiting for this question for months now.

"There's no point regretting things we can't change."

"And if you could change it?"

Resisting the urge to sigh again, Will lifts his head to gently press his lips against Hannibal's.

"I do not regret you, Hannibal."


	2. Firsts

It's a spontaneous, spur of the moment type of thing, the two of them tumbling into the bed, bodies intertwining as they try to get as close to each other as humanly possible.

Clothes are removed with haste, teenage enthusiasm bubbling within them. Hands and mouths are everywhere, trying to touch everything, to memorise everything.

Hannibal is on the edge before he even enters Will, ecstatic at finally being able to be with his beloved. Will isn't far behind, nails scraping at skin hard enough to break skin.

It's over embarrassingly quickly. For both of them.

They don't mention it.

* * *

 **Prompts are accepted here in reviews or over at my ask on tumblr (snaxo)**


	3. Puppies

Will looks at the sight in front of him, eyes flickering from Hannibal's face to the squirming puppy in his arms. It's an adorable dog, black and white fur shining in the light, its excitement obvious. One eye is stitched shut, but that doesn't stop the happy tongue from poking out. He wonders what happened to the poor creature.

"What did you do?"

"Why do you always assume I've done something?"

He moves towards the other man, taking the pup and cuddling it to his chest. "Who'd you kill?"

"No one."

"Hannibal."

"...Professor Burke."

A sigh, "You're lucky she's cute."


	4. Cheese

"We've been here for _twenty five_ minutes."

"You don't rush perfection, Will."

"It's _cheese_ ," he says, as if it explains his frustration. In Will's mind, it does.

Hannibal cocks an eyebrow, his gaze switching from the array of cheeses in front of him to look at his husband. "I am aware."

"Hannibal," Will starts, and then stops himself. He looks over the other man's shoulder, nose scrunching as he surveys what's there. "There is absolutely no need for gold infused cheese."

"I wouldn't say there's _no_ need—"

"We're not buying it."

"The neighbours might like it."

"No."

"Fine," Hannibal says, sighing. "How about the Pule? It's made from the milk of a donkey."

Will stares at the small, white cube of cheese Hannibal pointed at. "A donkey?"

"It's quite nice."

Voice low enough for only Hannibal to hear, he mutters, "Donkey cheese and people meat. The neighbours will definitely love that."

Hannibal huffs a laugh, linking his hand with Will's as he murmurs in French with the shop owner. Relief washes over Will when the owner begins preparing a package, glad to _finally_ be leaving. He watches as Hannibal passes over an obscene amount of money – _cheese_ – and is out the door of the small shop the second Hannibal has the bag in his hand.

"If you ever make me come with you again, I'm calling the FBI and turning you in."

Hannibal smirks, eyes twinkling with mirth as he looks at Will. "We've yet to get the wine."


	5. Blunt

Hannibal's lips drag against his skin, the feeling warm and damp as he whispers in languages Will can't understand. They're still familiarising themselves with each other, their movements still new, experimental. They've only just started doing this together.

He makes a word out every now and then, something about art and beauty and masterpieces; about coming together as one and blurring together, and he loves Hannibal, he really does, but sometimes he wishes the man would just, _"Shut up and fuck me."_

Hannibal grins, and Will sees him switch to something feral, animalistic. It's the best sex he's ever had.


	6. Greens

The wheels of the trolley wobble as Will pushes it down the crowded aisle.

Stopping, he scans the products in front of him, the dark green of the vegetables contrasting with the bright, fluorescent lighting. Hannibal stands to his left, mouth turned in disdain as he examines the spinach leaves in his hands.

"This is ridiculous."

"It's the best we can do."

"I know a priv—"

"—vate shopper, yes. I know."

"Do you know how many people have touched this, Will?"

"That's why you wash it."

"Will."

Suppressing a laugh, Will replies, "I'm doing this on my own next time."


	7. Sock Garters

**this is my favourite prompt i've ever received.**

Will's jaw drops open, mouth parting slightly as he stares, the tip of his tongue running across his bottom lip.

Hannibal stands before him, confident as ever, his body covered in nothing but a crimson, silken robe, black socks pulled half way up his calves, and...sock garters. Actual, real life sock garters.

Will's seen him dressed in some ridiculous things, but this, he thinks, has to take the cake.

He's unbelievably turned on.

It takes him less than a minute to bend the man over the nearest surface, ripping the robe off in his haste. The socks stay on.


	8. Groceries 30

Name after name fills their little book, the words blurring together as Will stares. He leans his cheek against Hannibal's shoulder, sighing as he reaches a hand out randomly, finger pointing towards one of the many lines.

"How about him?"

Hannibal snakes his arm around Will's waist, thumb stroking his skin through the soft fabric. He looks to where Will points, the name and address of a man stark against the white page. Hannibal remembers him, their encounter, the unnecessary comments he'd made about his relationship with Will.

He smiles, kisses Will's forehead, and says; "I think he will do."


	9. Rain

Hannibal is high.

There really is no other word for it, Will thinks. Too much wine mixed with too much pain relief.

"You what?"

"Feel the rain," Hannibal murmurs, eyes half lidded at he looks up at Will from his spot on the lounge. The words are almost slurred. "I want to go outside."

"We're in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?"

"Yes."

Will sighs, looks to the large window that covers most of the wall, the small drops of water that cover the glass. Lightning strikes somewhere in the distance, the deafening sound of thunder coming a few moments after. It's been like this for days.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you did that yesterday and ended up slipping. It's the rain's fault you're in this situation."

"But it's so _nice_."

" _No_ ," Will repeats, almost as if he's speaking to a small child. "You're staying inside."

Hannibal pouts – actually pouts, as if he was a petulant child – and reaches both arms out towards Will, his hands making childlike grabby motions. "Come."

Will laughs, wishing there was a camera on hand. "What?" he says, grabbing both of Hannibal's hands with his own as he moves forward. The other man pulls him down, and Will lands in his lap, one arm winding its way around Hannibal's neck.

"What if," Hannibal whispers, as if it's a great big secret. "What if I buy the rain?"

Will snorts, "You can't buy the rain, Hannibal."

"But—"

" _No_."


End file.
